


I never expected to become a biology teacher.

by orphan_account



Category: Sherlock (BBC), Sherlock (TV), Sherlock Holmes & Related Fandoms, johnlock - Fandom
Genre: Alternate Universe, I'm going to stop now, I'm so bad at these, Irene is a student, John and Sherlock are teachers, M/M
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2013-12-23
Updated: 2014-01-02
Packaged: 2018-01-04 15:22:00
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 3
Words: 5,087
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1082605
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/orphan_account/pseuds/orphan_account
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>In this universe, ex-military doctor John Watson uses his anatomical skills to become a secondary school biology teacher. Meeting his new colleagues, he is subconsciously drawn to the mysterious, and brilliant, chemistry teacher, Sherlock Holmes.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> If you are choosing to read this, thank you. This is my first proper AU fic where they are in totally new jobs, so it could be interesting....

John Watson hadn't planned on becoming a teacher. When he was little he had always wanted to be a doctor. Although part of it was inspired from Doctor Who, the notion had stuck and after years of medical training, he finally became a military doctor. Why a military doctor? Because they had said they would pay his tuition fees if he did. It was a routine service and he was supposed to have served for four years. Two and a half years later, he found himself in a rehabilitation center for those wounded in combat. That's when he became interested in teaching.

Three years later, many courses, teacher training and feeling too old to be a trainee teacher, he passed his final exams to become a secondary school biology teacher.  
He had considered becoming a collage or university professor, but he felt that it would put much more stress on him than secondary school teaching would. He was partly right, but, in his learning process, he found he enjoyed working with kids that age and was glad he did.

The interview for this job was, to say the least, incredibly nerve wracking. The head master of the school, Mycroft Holmes, was very strict and had very set views on what sort of teacher he wanted entering his school. Despite this, the children who were part of the schools 'student council' had a interview for him as well. He fared much better in this and had more than a sneaking suspicion that the kids had a big impact on who they hired. He was nervous about his first day. He had been around the school before and met the other teachers, even taken a few classes, but today was his first day with is new 'tutor group'. Tutor groups were where the kids went on a morning to register and prepare for the school day. He would stay with this class for their five years of high school. He had met them before, for a day, when they were being inducted into the school from their year six classes in the local primary schools. He was happy to find he had a relatively calm class, with only a few obvious trouble makers.  
  
He had just finished sorting out the papers on his desk when the bell rang. He opened the door to his science classroom and outside his class had lined up. They were tugging gently at their uniform and gripping tightly onto their bags. In Johns opinion, they looked much too small to be in secondary school. He held the door open for them as they filed in nervously.  
"Please stand in a line at the back. I will be putting you in a seating plan." He announces to the class as they pass him.  
Stood at the back they were all shuffling around nervously, obviously stood in their friend groups. It took them ten minutes to get the seating plan in arrangement. John had set them in alphabetical order, in a hope he would learn their names quicker.  
John did a quick register and handed out the students their timetables, with a map of the school grounds. John didn't know how they were expected to learn their way. He had already gotten lost twice this morning.  
"Does everyone have their planners with them?" He calls out, hoping no one had forgotten theirs. Thankfully they all had theirs with them. He gave them a number of letters for their parents, explained the Positive Discipline system to them again, though he didn't really understand it himself, he explained the rewards system and read out some notices, then left them to chat for the last five minutes of tutor time.  
"Mr Watson?" A blonde girl called from the back of the class, with her hand up.  
"Yes..."  
"Milly."  
"Okay. Yes Milly?"  
"Can I go to the toilet?"  
"No, Milly, you have five minutes before movement, you can wait until then." John sighed as he looked at his computer screen, checking for any new announcements he may have missed.   
  
The bell went for first period and he dismissed his class. His first lesson was in his tutor room, so he began preparing the lesson he had in mind. It was a year nine bottom set class so he had something interesting planned, though it was educational.  
  
At the end of the lesson, he was quite pleased with himself. He had successfully gained the attention of the whole class, taught them the beginning of the life cycles topic, without any major mishaps. One child had managed to fall off his chair because he had forgotten his stool didn't have a back, but he was okay and he was laughing with the class. The next three periods had been much of a muchness. Nothing notable happening. Well, apart from when he caught a few year ten students passing a note to each other and decided to read it out before reading it in his head. Unfortunately it had read, 'Mr Watson is hot, isn't he?-Abbs 'I know. My mum heard he was in the army'-Geegee and such like. Fair play to John he read it all, and made a joke about it, but inside he was burning a fiery red embarrassment.   
  
He had already made the decision that morning to eat his lunch in his room, so he could review what he was doing for his last lesson, and take a look at tomorrows as well. After about ten minutes, he noticed a dark haired teacher leaning in his doorway. Un-like many of the other teacher here, John believed in an open door policy, if he was in the room, anyone could come and visit him.   
"Hello?" John calls to the teacher in the doorway. He walks in and John doesn't recognize him from any meet-and-greets he had been to in the past here.  
"I thought I'd introduce myself, Mr Watson, seen as I haven't been here when they were introducing you to the other teachers. I'm Sherlock Holmes." Sherlock Holds out a lanky hand for John to shake.  
"John."  
"Ah, okay. John. Why are you in here? There is the staff room just down the hallway."  
"Thank you, Sherlock, but I was looking over my lesson plans. This is my first day teaching on my own, so I just wanted to make sure I know what I'm doing." John moves his papers to one side, and picks up another small pile.  
"Well, you are certainly the talk of my year nine bottom set." John glanced up at the smirking face of his colleague.   
"Really?"  
"You may have over taken me in the 'Hot mysterious teacher' standings." John felt himself turn a little red, but managed to control his voice.  
"Oh, well. Umm. You teach chemistry?" John was desperate to change the subject.  
"Yes. Though I'm still not sure what possessed me to become a secondary school teacher. I have to deal with teenage emotional crises and arguments."  
"I have yet to experience any of them."  
"You will. I heard that you were in the army before becoming a teacher."  
"Yes. I was an army doctor."  
"Why did you stop?"  
"Injury."  
"Okay."

There was a awkward silence between the two men, before Sherlock took his leave.  
"It was nice meeting you, John."  
"And you, Sherlock." He waved at the retreating figure and got back to reviewing his lessons.   
The bell for afternoon tutor time rang and he let in his tutor group. After a register, he let them go again, to get to their lessons and he set off towards the classroom he would be teaching in next.  
He was glad he was a science teacher because he would only be in one of two corridors and he could just wander up and down until he found his room.   
He finally found his room, but he was a little late to the lesson. He let his year 13 class in with apologies about being lost and began the lesson.  
  
John enjoyed teaching sixth form lessons, they felt much more relaxed and he felt the students were learning more. His last two lessons went very quick and he found himself in his room again, packing up his things at four o'clock, an hour after the students had left.  
John usually walked home. He lived a fair distance away, but unless it was raining or snowing, he would walk. It gave him time to think and relax, he knew he wouldn't have much time to do that when the year got properly started and he had books and tests to mark, as well as planning his lessons.  
  
It was a few weeks before John encountered Sherlock again. Somehow, even though John was one of the most organised people you'll ever meet, he was running late. He refused to run, something in the back of his mind was telling him it would look bad. A car pipped it's horn and pulled up beside him as the window wound down.  
"Do you need a lift, John?"  
It was Sherlock, in a sleek black car, that looked much too expensive for someone on a teachers wage.  
"Sure." Sherlock waved him in as John opened the door, and put his sachel on his knee.  
"I haven't seen you walking before." Sherlock says as he sets off again.  
"I'm not usually as late as this. Everything just seemed to go wrong this morning. I'm glad I'm still in one piece." Sherlock chuckled, it sent shivers down Johns spine.  
"So, what exactly went so wrong this morning?"  
"I wake up almost three quarters of an hour late because my alarm had broken, when I finally realized what time it was, I was in such a rush that I lost my phone, my toaster decided to die on me, almost exploding, and the handle of my cup fell off! When I finally found my phone, cleaned up the spilled coffee and packed my things away, I was this late." John's hand subconsciously gipped the side of his bag as he calmed himself back down from his rant.  
"So, not a good morning then?" John laughed lightly,  
"No, not brilliant." 

The rest of the journey was made in a companionable silence and when they pulled up to the gates, John found it would have been the time he arrived, if the morning had gone to plan.  
"John?" Sherock says before he gets out of the car, "Would you like a lift every day?" John was stuck to the floor, a little shocked.  
"If it's no problem."  
"No. I... liked having someone to ride with. I can meet you in the same place as today, at the same time."  
"Thank you, Sherlock."  
"Umm.. No problem?" John chuckled at the awkward way Sherlock approached the conversation.   
"See you tomorrow, Sherlock."

John walked upstairs to his classroom, his step slightly lighter than it was this morning. Maybe this morning wasn't all wrong.   
John had his second lesson free today. He had told one of his students to come and see him that period, rather than going to her normal class. John had sorted it out with Mr. Holmes earlier that week when he found that she was suffering badly with a stutter. None of the other teachers seemed to notice and Mr. Holmes decided it would be best for her to have a weekly session with her, to help her, rather than her Religious Studies lesson.   
There was a gentle knocking at the doorway.  
"Come in, Molly."   
Molly Hooper was a sweet girl, very pretty and very intelligent. But very quiet, with good reason though. Her stutter was really quite bad and she found it difficult to communicate. Her other teachers had just assumed she was nervous whenever she spoke, so for the four years she had been here, they had done nothing to support her. IN her final year, John was determined to help her through.  
"T-th, th." She sighed and looked at her feet.   
"Sit, Molly." She did so. "I'm sorry people haven't picked up on this before. I'm going to help you get over this stutter, okay?" She nodded her head.   
"Molly, could you tell me your full name, and your favorite colour?"  
"M-m. My name i-i-i."  
"Take it slowly, Molly."  
"Molly H-h-Hoo-Hooper."  
"Keep going."  
"M-m-my f-f-f-fa-fav." She bit her lip.   
"You're doing really well." She pulls out a note pad and writes a note for John on it.  
 _I just want to be able to talk like everyone else. In my head I can, but the words get stuck in my throat. It's like someone has locked my mouth up and hidden the key._

  
She looked up at John, almost expecting abuse.   
"We will have you talking like everyone else soon. We just need to find what makes you comfortable speaking." She smiled weakly up at him, it was almost pitly in her eyes.  
"We will, Molly, I promise"   
"M-my fav-fav-favour-favorite colour i-is r-r-r-red."  
"Well done, well done." The rest of the hour was spent looking over a simple text that Molly would try to learn to say by next week. It was less than half a page, basic English, but it was a challenge for poor Molly, who wrote that she would try her best.  
John felt so sorry for her, she was a lovely girl that just wanted to be normal, with a fascination for the human body.

It was a difficult first few weeks, Molly didn't seem to be making any improvement, until John stumbled upon something.   
One day he was late to the meeting he had with her and heard Molly singing. She had a lovely voice, and there was no stutter.  
"Molly?"  
She looked up stunned.  
"Molly that was brilliant. I think I have an idea."

 


	2. Chapter 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> I don't know, you'll just have to read it!

John had finally found something to help Molly. The hour he spent with her was by far the most productive. It was a pity when they were barged in on by Sherlock. He was breathing heavily and seemed a little flustered.  
"You said you were a doctor, John?"  
"Mr Holmes, I am in the middle of something." Molly had gone quiet and was looking at her feet.  
"Please, John, a girl has passed out in my class, I can't figure out why!" John looked up at Sherlock who was shifting nervously from foot to foot.   
"Molly, please excuse me." She nodded as John followed Sherlock out of the room. 

Sherlock's classroom was down the other end of the corridor. Whilst they were running, Sherlock filled John in as much as he could.  
"She's one of my year seven students, so I don't know much about her medical history. I checked the system and it didn't come up with anything and I looked her over and I could't see anything that indicated any medical history of this." John just nodded as they approached Sherlock's room. 

In the room, the class was crowded around a figure on the floor.  
"Move out of the way!" John commanded at the crowd dispersed to the other side of the room. Crouched down next to the girl, John checked her pulse. Quite weak, but there. Breathing? Weak but regular.  
"Sherlock, call an ambulance."  
"Already on it's way. Whats wrong?" John indicated for Sherlock to move closer.  
"She's had a faily major heart attack. Completley random. Sometimes it just happens for no known reason. We need to contact her parents. Don't move her, let the medics do that when they get here."  
"It should be in the next few minutes."  
"Have you contacted Mr. Holmes?" Sherlock nodded slowly.  
"Really?" 

Over the past few weeks, John had gotten to know Sherlock better and knew he didn't trust his brother, the headmaster.  
"Yes!" Sherlock sighed. Joh had to take his word for it as he didn't plan to leave this girls side until the ambulace got there. As if on cue, the peircing sound of sirens broke the silence that had fallen over the class. Medics rushed into the room and John filled them in as much as he could as they moved her onto a stretcher. That wasn't the worst part.

"Mrs Gavin. Please belive me when I say, this was impossible to predict." John almost sighed, it was the fifth time he had explained the situation to the girls mother.  
"But it was a heart attack! She was only eleven!"   
"I know, Mrs Gavin, but sometimes these things happen out of the blue. It is a very unusual situation and I hope that she makes a full recovery soon."  
"I hear you were the doctor to diagnose her." This was the deeper voice of the girls father.  
"Yes, Mr Gavin. I have a background in medical training and her teacher at the time came to find me as soon as she passed out. The ambulance could have been another twenty minutes and it is helpful for them to have all the information they can so they can perform the correct procedures as soon as they can. It means that there is a higher chance of a full recovery."  
"So you mean there is a chance of no recovery?" This was the mother again.  
"Yes, Mrs. Gavin, there is always that chance, with any illness." The woman broke into new floods of tears as her husband comforted her.  
"I will leave you alone now. I hope the best for your daughter."  
"Thank you, Dr. Watson." The father held out a hand. John shook it gently and then left them together.

He approached his room, hoping for some quiet. But, unfortunatley, the school day was still in process and the events of the day did not disrupt any other lessons than the ones directly associated with incident. His class was being covered by a temp and he took the opertunity to have half an hours rest before his lunch break. With no where else to go, he walked into the staff room. Thank god it was nearly empty. The only other person in the room was Sherlock. He was sat staring into space, and John didn't want to disturb him. It was a couple of minutes after he sat down when Sherlock looked straight at him.  
"How did you know it was a heart attack?"  
"I dealt with them in the army."  
"But what symptoms did she have that lead you to that conclusion, which was confirmed by the ambulance staff, how did I not see it?!"   
"Calm down, you were in a little bit of shock, Sherlock. But, her breath was weak but regular, meaning it wasn't a lack of air that caused her to pass out, but the weakness of her breath indicated it was something possibly muscular, or organ related that meant that the body wanted to slow the mount of blood passing through the body. Checking her pulse I found it was there but weak, not muscular then, after a while I noticed the pulse wasn't regular, which meant it was something to do with her heart. A minor heart attack and she would have been awake by the time I got there, a 'medium', so to say, heart attack and she would have been woken up by me taking her pulse and moving her head to her her breathe properly. So conclusion, major heart attack. She has not medical records of this but I know of men who were at the prime of their life and fit as you could get, but still, randomly suffered heart failures, meaning it is highly possible that it could have happened to an eleven year old girl."  
Sherlock was still staring at him, but he had a different gleam in his eye and it was like he was soaking in the new information.  
"That was very good, John. I'm impressed."  
"Umm, thanks?" John was a little confused by the odd compliment? Was it one? John decided to think yes, it would be better to think it was. 

The school day ended and it was pouring with rain. John would have been dryer stepping into his shower at home, fully clothed. He was about to step out of the building when he felt a hand on his shoulder.  
"I don't suppose you need a lift home?" John looked up at the blue-green eyes of Sherlock.  
"Ummm...." Was all he could manage. Sherlock suddenly looked a little nervous.  
"I just mean, it's raining and, well, you usually walk and I thought maybe you'd like a lift...." John pulls himself together.  
"Yep, umm, yes, ummm, sure, I would love a lift actually, I hate the rain...." His awkward sentance drifts off when he sees Sherlocks pleased grin. It really was beautiful. John mentally slapped himself. Beautiful? Are you mad?!? He his a work colleauge who offered you a lift. Pull your self together! 

They stepped out of the building together and sprinted to the car. John couldn't help but laugh when Sherlock began fumbling with the car keys, trying to get it open so they could escape the chily shower. When inside and both had stopped giggling like their younger students, John spoke.  
"I thought a car like that would have had a remote opening thingy on the key." Sherlock looked at him wide eyed.  
"It did." They both burst out into laughter again and it was another ten minutes before they acutally set off. 

The rest of the journey was spent discussing particulaly annoying students and how to deal with them. John knew he would miss the company as soon as he got into his very tidy, very empty flat. When Sherlock parked up outside, John blurted out.  
"Would you like to come in for a cup of tea?" In his head it sounded like a pathetic plea, but Sherlock didn't seem to notice.  
"Sure." They both ran to the door and John managed to open it up without much hassle, Sherlock locking the car, with the remote this time.   
As soon as Sherlock had entered Johns small flat, he began observing, learning more about the army doctor-turned-biology teacher. John began fussing about in the kitchen, making tea and finding biscuits. It was very distracting for Sherlock when John bent down like that, but for the life of him he couldn't figure out why. Sherlock hated not knowing and after the incident today, with the girl passing out, he wasn't sure he could trust his senses again. It was a very simple deduction, leading to the outcome of heart attack, but he hadn't been able to do it. He blamed the fumes the class must have been creating from setting their pens alight, as they all did when the bunsen burners came out.

The appearence of John with a cup of tea drew him out of his thoughts and he accepted the cup with a small smile, trying not to notice the shocks that went up his arms when their fingers brushed together.   
"It's not the best place, but it's mine I suppose." John gestured to the obscenley tidy flat.  
"It's much tidier than mine." Sherlock commented, taking a sip of sweetened tea. Sherlock liked lots os sugar in his tea, it helped him think. John chuckled.  
"What?" Sherlock asked.  
"It's just that, I can imagaine your flat being messy. I don't know why..." John trailed off as Sherlock's intense gaze was fixed on him.  
"ummm......" John had sat down next to Sherlock. It was a small sofa. Much too small for work colleauges to sit on together. Their knees were brushing and shifting slightly in your seat sent the other almost flying off the sofa, or onto you. John jumped up after Sherlock had nearly sat on his knee after moving to put his cup down on the coffee table. He stood awkwardly as Sherlocklooked at the empty space, then at John.   
"This was, pleasant, John. If it's still raining tomorrow then I shall pick you up from here." Then he swished out of the door.  
  
John leant on the door after Sherlock had gone and let out a breath he didn't know he was holding.  _Shit._ He thought  _What am I getting myself into?._  
 


	3. Chapter 3

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> I'm getting better at naming these chapters now.... Gosh, what am I doing with my life?

It was raining the next morning and John was a little aprehensive to say the least. He hadn't gotten much sleep that night, he was too busy thinking of a way to stop seeing Sherock as much, without hurting his feelings.

John had just finished getting ready when the doorbell rang. He opened it to a slightly damp Sherlock stood in the doorway, taking what little shelter it had.  
"Come in for a minute, I just need to pick up a few things." Sherlock stepped in and closed the door behind him.   
"SHIT!" *THUD* came from the kitchen.  
"John are you okay?" Sherlock calls as he walks into the kitchen properly.  
"Yes, oww, maybe." Sherlock looked down at the burn on John's wrist.  
"What happened?"  
"I didn't realise just how hot the water would still be in the kettle."  
"Why were you pouring the kettle?"  
"Leaving water in my kettle makes it go funny, so I make sure it's empty."  
"That looks like a bad burn." Sherlock was stood directly over John, looking at his injured wrist. John looks up directly into Sherlock's eyes. Then to Sherlocks mouth.  
"I, I have a first aid kit in the bathroom. But I can sort it out at school, we'll be late."  
"I'll get it, it won't take long, I promise." Sherlock slinks away to the bathroom and John is left stood in the kitchen, the throbbing in his wrist dulled by the thudding of his heart and heavy breathing. John knew from meetings with Sherlock and his reputation, he could see exactly what you were thinking. John sincerely hoped not.

He came back, brandishing a small red box. He cleaned the wound and put on a bandage.  
"Better?" Sherlock looked into Johns eyes.  
"Y-yes." John said back, shakily, trying to keep his heart rate down and the hunger from his eyes. Sherlock leaned in closer.  
"Are you sure there's nothing else I could do to alleviate the pain?" He breathed onto John's lips, teasing.  
"We-we have to get to school!"  
"School got cancelled when it flooded last night."  
"How come I was never rung about it?" John felt a little more confident.  
"Because I told my brother I would tell you myself."  
"And where did you plan to take me if school was closed?"  
"My flat." John suddenly lost the feeling in his legs. Sherlock leaned in close again.  
"But here is just fine." John whimpered slightly at the words and had a hard time not pulling them both together with the incredible force he knew he had.  
"For what?"  
"This."

Sherlock pressed his lips against Johns. John wrapped his arms around Sherlocks neck and grabbed his hair, tight. Sherlock gripped John's waist and pulled him up onto the counter top, so that they were the same height.  
"Sherlock." John whispered against his lips. "Are you sure this is allowed?"  
"John I have no idea, but I don't care." It should have warned John off, but it didn't, it only made Sherlock more irresistable. John latched back on to Sherlock and kissed him with the skill he knew he had.

He licked Sherlock's bottom lip, then his top lip. He slowly prised apart Sherlock's mouth then slowly invaded it with his tounge, he encouraged Sherlock to do the same and when he had he gently bit Sherlock's tounge and sucked it, before moving on to maping out the insode of Sherlock's mouth, taking total control of Sherlock. When they finally had to break for breath, Sherlock leaned in to John's neck.  
"I've never been kissed like that before." He mumbled against John's skin. Sherlock began planting kisses up and down his neck, but John did the same to Sherlock, except when Sherlock kissed, John bit. He had enough sense in him to make marks below the shirt line, which John had somehow unbuttoned the shirt and begun to pull it down his shoulders. He licked a glistening stripe up Sherlock's neck, then blew on it, relishing in the gasp it created. Sherlock bit down on John's collar bone, careful to make sure it could not be seen above a properly buttoned shirt.

Sherlock's jacket and shirt was on the floor, alongside John's. John was still perched on the counter top, his legs pulling Sherlock as close as possible and hands pulling at his hair, wrenching a moan from Sherlock's mouth with every tug. Without warning, Sherlock's grip on John's hips tightened and John found himself being picked up, and pushed against a wall. A thankfully empty wall. John tired to put his legs down but Sherlock held them in place.  
"Not yet" he whispered into Johns lips, biting them in the process. John moaned loudly, for once, he didn't give a shit about his neighbours. Sherlock peeled him from the wall and carried him towards John's bedroom door. They didn't make it. John didn't want them to make it. He quickly put his legs down and slammed Sherlock into the wall, with such force his head slammed back, but that didn't stop either of them, Sherlock pushed back from the wall and John's knees hit the sofa, the tiny, suquishy sofa and they both knew, they would never make it to the bed. Sherlock walked around John and pulled him so he was sat on the sofa, then trailed his fingertips down Johns body, down to his boxer shorts, his trousers somehow lost in the madness. 

John woke up at twelve noon, with Sherlock pressed up behind, spooning him on his tiny sofa. They had a blanket over them but he could feel that both parties were naked. John sighed, had Sherlock been telling the truth? Had the school really been closed? Sherlock began to move behind him and so John sat up, Sherlock looking up at him blearily.  
"Sherlock?" Sherlock blinked a few times. "Was school actually closed today?"   
Sherlock nodded gently. "I know how much the job means to you and I didn't want to risk you being fired."  
"So, flooded?"  
"Yes, it has been raining quiet alot in the past few days."   
"Hmm." John reached down and pressed a kiss to Sherlock's lips. "I suppose now we're in a 'relationship' of sorts." John whispers against Sherlock's lips.   
"Yes, John Watson, you're **mine**." Sherlock growled and pulled John back on top of him with a forcefull kiss.

John could get used to this.


End file.
